


Kill the old, torture their young

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Horror, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:19:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He isn't dead, he's un-dead. For your information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kill the old, torture their young

They’re on their tenth date when Brad sees Chester get his throat ripped out. Instinct tells him to run and he does, arterial spray still hot on his face and neck and hands. What they were doing is Brad was about to go down on him in the alley behind the club they’d just stumbled out of.

And then he wasn’t.

Then there was blood and Chester shaking violently and this other person, their hands all over him.

So Brad ran.

It starts raining and the blood washes from his face in tiny, pink droplets. He takes shelter in a phone booth and dials nine one one, panicky and breathless he tells the operator his boyfriend had been attacked. He says, I need an ambulance.

The rain has brought the stink of piss on the streets to life and he shivers, heads back to the alley.

But Chester isn’t there. Only the rising smell of copper and piss, blood stains on the ground.

And the sound of sirens in the distance.

***

The next day Chester shows up on Brad’s door step wearing sunglasses, with his neck swollen and bright red on one side. Brad jumps him immediately, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Oh my God,” he murmurs, kissing Chester’s cheek. “Oh my God we have to get you to a hospital! I have to call the police. Everybody is looking for you!”

Chester just stands there.

And clears his throat. “I have a headache. Can I come in?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and shoves past Brad, stepping into the darkness of the living room. Even inside he doesn’t take off his shades and all Brad can see is his own terrified reflection in the lenses. “You left me to die. Thanks.”

“No I did not! I called the cops, I called for an ambulance, and when I got back there you were gone.”

“Hmm.” Chester says and nods, seemingly satisfied.

“Look, we need to get you to hospital. Your neck…Jesus, what happened?”

“I was bitten.”

“I know! I saw! But he…the amount of blood…”

“Brad. Chill out. I can’t even explain this to you when you’re freaking out like this.” He says and sighs wearily. “Call me tonight when you’ve taken a chill pill.”

Brad watches Chester blow him a kiss and disappear out of the front door to his car.

***

When Brad calls him he asks to come over and Chester says no, not yet, not until he cleans up.

So Brad goes over anyway.

He catches his boyfriend carrying something out to the kerb in trash bags, a tiny trail of…something…following him all the way. Whatever it is it fucking stinks, and it thuds heavily into the trash can when Chester dumps it.

“What’s up?”

“Oh.” Chester says, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Just cleaning up.”

The trail down the path is bright red.

“Oh?”

Chester catches him looking and nods. “My dog. It died. So. I had to clean it up.”

Brad stares at him in disbelief. “Really? That’s terrible. Don’t you want to bury him?”

“No.” Chester says and turns back up the path hurrying toward the house with Brad hot on his tail. He scurries into the kitchen and there’s jugs on the counter, each of them filled with something red and Chester tries to block Brad’s view of them.

“Is that blood?”

“Are you going to freak out?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On whether it’s blood or not.”

“Yes.” Chester says. “It’s blood.”

And Brad pales. The bags, the dead dog, and now this. The dog’s blood, surely. And he fights the urge to throw up.

“When I was bitten, the guy, he fed me his own blood. And when I woke up the sun hurt my eyes and my skin burned and I felt so thirsty but water did sweet fuck all to make me feel better.”

“So you’re drinking blood.”

“So I’m drinking blood.” Chester says. “I’m a vampire.”

“You’re dead.”

“Fuck you! I’m undead.”

As if it matters.

As if this isn’t the weirdest conversation Brad has ever had.

Ever.

Chester stares at him, daring him to push the subject further, daring him to ask about the blood. And neither of them say anything for a while.

And God damn if the idea of Chester being a vampire isn’t hot, isn’t making him hot.

And he goes to say it, but he’s beaten to the punch.

“Wanna fuck?”

***

How he comes out of their encounter is slightly worse for wear. Chester doesn’t quite seem to understand the concept of keeping his fangs away from Brad’s major arteries and more than once they came really close to having a lot of blood to clean up. Even with his main arteries intact there’s still blood all over the sheets and drying on his body but Chester seems more than happy to lap this up with his tongue.

“You’d better not be thinking of killing me,” Brad says as Chester’s mouth and razor sharp fangs get closer and closer to his dick.

“I’m not. Your blood is too…is all you eat doused in a thick layer of salt?”

“Shut the fuck up, my blood is fine.”

“It’s salty, Brad.”

“Then stop licking me.” He mutters squirming.

Chester digs his fingers into Brad’s hips and glares up at him. “Hold still.” He says. And with eyes like that and teeth sharp enough to, well, bite his cock clean off, Brad doesn’t consider fighting him again.

***

“I’m hungry.”

“Sure. I’ll run to McDonalds. You like cheeseburgers, right?”

“No.” Chester says, “I’m hungry.”

Where they are is the beach at night because the sun hurts Chester’s eyes. Where Brad’s mind is, well, who knows? But he catches himself thinking of all the vampire movies he’s ever seen. That one with Brad Pitt, where he ate rats…

“So,” Brad says, trying to be conversational. “So…you mean for like, human blood, right?”

“Yeah maybe.”

“Because we could just wait for someone to commit a crime then you can drink their blood. And it’s like, keeping the balance or something.”

It’s a nice idea. But they end up going to a club. Everybody is on drugs and they’re barely inside for a second before somebody offers Brad some smack. They split up and he watches from afar as Chester slinks onto the dance floor and goes up to some young thing with her ass and tits hanging out of her dress and kisses her neck softly, whispers something to her and then drags her into the bathroom.

He loses track of them and gives up, opting for watching the lights swoop back and forth, back and forth.

And then there’s a hand tight on his arm and he’s being dragged outside. In the moonlight Chester’s ghostly appearance is eerie, the blood around his mouth and his long, shining fangs.

They end up in the alley where this all started.

And Chester laughs loudly, “Oh man, she is so dying in there. Or probably she’s already dead.”

Brad cringes, but leans in to lap the blood from the corner of Chester’s mouth and says, “Fuck me.”

“My pleasure.” Chester says, and rakes his fangs over Brad’s neck.


End file.
